I Almost Do
by mockingjayne
Summary: A tension that hadn't been there before has been steadily building to this moment. Takes place in what would be Psych: The Movie. SHULES.


Juliet moves methodically through her nightly routine, removing her heels and nearly flinging them across their bedroom. Her earrings taken out, placed haphazardly on the dresser, her empty hand catching her eye, causing her to release a rustling sigh.

"Gus, engaged. Can you believe it?" Shawn asks coming into the room, the news having been shared with them just that night, Gus' fiancé proudly showing off the ring that she'd gotten, smiles and congratulations passed around, as the two guys had swapped their own secret language of excitement.

His enthusiasm was palpable has he entered the room, collapsing onto the bed, his sneakers still on.

Her lips purse, as she nods slightly, not turning around to look at him.

"Yep," she says, short and curt, before moving towards the bathroom, her steps furitive, nearly stomping against the wood.

For someone so observant, he's seemingly missing signs of her frustration, instead continuing to ramble on about how shocked he was that Gus, of all people, had finally found someone that was good for him, and was ready to settle down.

Juliet looks at herself in the mirror, the curls from their evening having fallen, the bags under her eyes from another sleepless case gone by mocking her, and a frown in place where a usual smile stood.

Finally undressed and face clear of makeup, she makes her way to their bed, motioning for him to scoot over to his side with her hand, before yanking the duvet back and settling in, her back facing him.

"Jules?" He says with a laugh, moving his arm around her middle, mouth tucked into her neck.

Her mouth opens slightly, the words on the tip of her tongue, before shutting her mouth again, moving away from him, hands tucked underneath her pillow, supporting her head.

He lifts himself from her at the slight, a confused look crossing his face, before smoothing into one of amusement.

"Is this about the joke I made earlier, because I told you—"

"It's not about the joke," she mumbles into her pillow. Having remembered the joke he was talking about, because she'd been two bites into her cake, nearly choking and scrunching her face at it, before the announcement.

He's now fully sitting up, attempting to peer over at her on the bed, actual concern etched on his face, the tension that had been building for some time between them something neither of them could quite pinpoint, but both felt it was there, lingering over them. Until tonight. When suddenly it had become clear why, at least to her.

"Jules," he attempts, his hand landing on her hip. "Juuuuuules," he practically sings, only furthering to irritate her.

"Shawn, stop," she says, sitting up to face him, and his hand flies back to his own lap.

"Whoa. Someone is major grumps," he jokes, attempting to lighten the mood.

She lets out a sigh, frustrated, dipping her head to where her eyes are cast down on her fingers, twisting themselves in a nervous habit.

"Where are we doing?" She asks, refusing to meet his gaze. But she sees him squint at her out of the corner of her eye.

"Uhh, sitting in bed…awkwardly, I might add," he says with a shake of his head, fighting back a grin at her question.

"No," she says, bringing her hands up, only to fling them down to her covered lap. "What are we _doing_?" She reiterates. "Where are our dogs?" She asks, meeting his eyes, her blue eyes already swimming with an irritation that was creating a storm.

"Are you sick?" He asks with a laugh, reaching to put his hand on her head. "We don't have any dogs."

But she pulls out of his way, standing up this time, alerting him that whatever was happening, was serious.

"That, right there, we don't have any," she says, all worked up, bending over nearly begging him to understand what she was saying.

He cocks his head to the side, moving to his knees and sitting back on his heels so he's at her height.

"You want a dog, we can go get one right now," he offers, completely confused at this point, she can tell.

"No, we won't," she mutters, but she knows he hears her.

"Jules, what is this about?" He scoots closer to the end of the bed to reach for her, but she's nearly pacing now.

Her face is screwed up, tears threatening to break free at any moment. And then she stops in front of him.

"We live together," she says, and he nods, knowing that much. "We've been together for seven years, I love you," she continues listing things she knows to be true. "I know, for me, you are it. And I thought you felt the same. That we were just waiting until things settled down, what with the move, new jobs. But once we were comfortable we'd…" She stops, as if catching her breath, Shawn giving her the same look she saw the night she'd found out he had been lying to her. Like he could see the house of cards crashing down, but had no way of stopping it from happening.

"Jules…"

She looks up at him, his hazel eyes staring right at her, and that's when the first tears drop, her voice straining.

"Do you even want to marry me?"

She can feel herself nearly shaking, the question having been weighing on her for some time. Gus' engagement having stripped her of her rose-colored glasses, revealing to her the truth that had been staring her in the face for a while. Seven years they'd been together, three since he'd proposed, and not even a ring on her finger to show for it.

They'd been happily co-existing together, their lives never dull, Shawn always bringing a smile to her face even on the roughest of days. And while there was nothing wrong with the way they were going about their lives, gliding through the years, there was always that underlying promise of more that he'd voiced to her throughout every milestone of their relationship. And yet, here they were.

Shawn stares dumbfounded at her, his mouth puckering as if he were thinking of an answer.

She swears, her heart sinks at his hesitance to assure her.

Her head dips, her hands raised in disbelief, like she was trying to wrap her head around what was happening.

"Oh my god," she declares, her face scrunching up in tears, turning to leave.

"Wait, wait, Jules," Shawn says, shuffling off the bed, nearly falling in his clumsy attempt to chase after her.

Reaching out to grab her arm, she whips around.

Her lip is tucked into her mouth, as if biting back the tears.

"So what was this? Huh? Just a way to bide your time until…what?"

"What are you talking about? Jules, we're happy. Look at where we are," he gestures to their home. "I supported you when you took a job somewhere else. I moved here for you," he says, but his words come out accusing to her.

"So this is my fault? I left because I had an opportunity, one that I didn't have there anymore," she bites back.

"I know, and I'm okay with that. It was my choice, I wanted to move here…with you," he says, pointing at her, taking a step towards her. But she takes one back.

She holds her hands out, one coming to her chest, the other keeping him at bay.

"But you don't want to marry me," she nearly whispers, her eyes dripping with hurt.

"Sweetheart," he tries stepping towards her again, and this time she allows it. "I never said that."

"But you—" she tries to collect her thoughts, his hands resting on her arms, lightly gripping her.

"Of course I want to marry you," he says, his hands sliding from her arms to her neck, his thumbs tracing the outline of her jaw. "I wouldn't have asked you if I hadn't meant it."

"Then why…" she says, sniffling at this point, her blue eyes a vibrant shade of clear sky, the storm having calmed.

"We just…we were good the way were," he shrugs. "I didn't want to mess it up," he claims, a little grin peeking out. "And it wasn't like you ever brought it up, so I thought, she's happy too,"

Juliet steps forward, closing the gap between them so they're resting against each other, her hands trailing up the buttons of his shirt.

"I _am_ happy," she admits.

"I'm sensing there's a but to that," he says with a jerk of his head in a knowing way.

"But…" she says with a sheepish smile. "I do want to get married."

He nods.

"Me too," he agrees, bringing her in for a kiss.

"I was serious about the dogs, too," she says teasingly in a higher pitched voice that she only used with him.

"Wedding, dog, got it," he checks off on his fingers.

"Shawn," she says, her brow furrowed, not wanting more promises that were never carried through.

"I don't ever want to lose you," he says, his eyes pleading with her, as if sure that this conversation could've easily gone in another direction. A miscommunication that could've led to their breakup, a life of friendly exchanges, shared custody of a box of cereal, and longing stares across the room of a life they could've had.

"Me either," she says, standing on her toes, so their noses are touching, her arms wrapped around his neck.

"So we never decided, was it Mrs. Spencer or Mrs. Spencer-O'Hara, because either way, so hot," he whispers against her lips, causing her to laugh.

xxxxx

 _A/N: i've had this fic floating around in my head since i found out about the movie, only encouraged by the bits of information i've heard in various interviews. feedback is greatly appreciated. thanks!_


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